Metamorphoses-from child, to adult, to what?
I'm sure I spelled that right: metamorphoses has to be the plural form of metamorphosis. A very dramatic change. Yup, that's what happened to me, again!
Anyway, my insight of the week is this, that my entire bodily chemistry changed me in many ways, if not in EVERY way, from a young girl into a grown woman. That was just a few years ago. Okay, it was actually about forty years ago! I'm at the tail-end of the Baby Boomer generation, but maybe none of the others would admit it...that this change is just as real!
Hit me across the head with a two-by-four! My goodness! OUCH! I am no longer a mother of young children, okay, I'll say it...."I'm no longer a young mother", period!
I'll even be more honest - "I'm no longer young". gulp!
I wanted to use all my years of experience, all the wisdom of my age, the strength of my conviction and my heart-felt love for these children. I didn't have what it took to mother them the way that they needed. I couldn't drum it up. I couldn't create it. My bucket was empty.
I had to admit that my "mother of young children" bucket was empty.
I had changed. It was real. It was physical, chemical, emotional, in every way REAL. It was just as real as when my bean-pole shape at puberty changed into a curvy shape (and all those other changes little girls just don't want to talk about).
When I was engaged to be married thirty-one years ago I wrote in my journal that I was about to become, as a married woman, a "whole new butterfly". Now that this metamorphosis has occurred, what am I?
I'm going to post a copy of a cartoon of a figure sitting in the doctor's office after an examination. The figure appears to be an attempted drawing of a twisted, erratic, screaming human. The doctor is studying his chart, and his remark is: "There's nothing wrong with you, you're a Picasso!" (picture removed from site)
It gives me great comfort to know that I'm not "wrong", I'm just different now. Thank you, Jesus!
perfectlyokayperfectlyokayperfectlyokayperfectlyokay
Anyway, my insight of the week is this, that my entire bodily chemistry changed me in many ways, if not in EVERY way, from a young girl into a grown woman. That was just a few years ago. Okay, it was actually about forty years ago! I'm at the tail-end of the Baby Boomer generation, but maybe none of the others would admit it...that this change is just as real!
Hit me across the head with a two-by-four! My goodness! OUCH! I am no longer a mother of young children, okay, I'll say it...."I'm no longer a young mother", period!
I'll even be more honest - "I'm no longer young". gulp!
I wanted to use all my years of experience, all the wisdom of my age, the strength of my conviction and my heart-felt love for these children. I didn't have what it took to mother them the way that they needed. I couldn't drum it up. I couldn't create it. My bucket was empty.
I had to admit that my "mother of young children" bucket was empty.
I had changed. It was real. It was physical, chemical, emotional, in every way REAL. It was just as real as when my bean-pole shape at puberty changed into a curvy shape (and all those other changes little girls just don't want to talk about).
When I was engaged to be married thirty-one years ago I wrote in my journal that I was about to become, as a married woman, a "whole new butterfly". Now that this metamorphosis has occurred, what am I?
I'm going to post a copy of a cartoon of a figure sitting in the doctor's office after an examination. The figure appears to be an attempted drawing of a twisted, erratic, screaming human. The doctor is studying his chart, and his remark is: "There's nothing wrong with you, you're a Picasso!" (picture removed from site)
It gives me great comfort to know that I'm not "wrong", I'm just different now. Thank you, Jesus!
perfectlyokayperfectlyokayperfectlyokayperfectlyokay
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